it's my party, dammit, and if i want t.rex on, it will be. smile.
had enough? no? fine. same song, with party favor wrapped around his neck. hb2me! hb2me! laughing to empty space, eyes wild, spittle on keyboard from screaming about download speeds ...
what the hell is this?!?
This is the cover song for the last album. Released in March 1977. They were on tour when the album was released, so this performance was probably late spring or early summer. He died in September that year ...
Prince of Players, Pawn of none
Born with steel reins on the heart of the Sun
Gypsy explorer of the New Jersey Heights
Exalted companion of cocaine nights
'Cos he's a Dandy in the Underworld
Dandy in the Underworld
When will he come up for air,
Will anybody ever care
At an old eighteen exiled he was
To the deserted kingdoms of a mythical Oz
Distraction he wanted, to destruction he fell
Now he forever stalks the ancient
Mansions of hell
Now his lovers have left him
And his youth's ill spent
He cries in the dungeons and tries to repent
But change is a monster and changing is hard
But he'll freeze away his summers in his
Underground yard
Answer: In this order, ABC News, the FBI, an NPR piece, Wikipedia, Jihad Watch, the Saudi Embassy, me.
Question: What is google’s top seven for “wanted terrorist from yemen”? Returned with july 2005 archive.
Yeah, that’s me, terrorist-hunting superhero. Even more fun, following me is Fox News, CNN, and the NYT. I also come in 20th! I wonder if I could sell my page rankings … CNN can use all the help it can get.
The internet is such a dangerous place to get information.
Seems our sitemeter follies a couple two tree posts below missed one cc: on Poindexter’s e: Talisman Energy, Calgary. Dat boy dun shard are storey un stoopud tings! If’n I had a momma I’d bea telling ‘er! Dang!
Answer: In this order, Food Timeline, What’s Cooking America, Motts, me.
Question: What is Google’s top four for the history of applesauce? Return with stupid clowns with a side of applesauce.
I am the authority on the history of applesauce immediately following Motts? You guys are in trouble!
Answer: I didn’t want to sound offensive, so I googled insensitive penis.
Question: What do I do with this limp dick with which I live?
Good advice inspired by one of my hero’s in this life.
Answer: That right there is my e.a.merkel double barrel rabbit ear shotgun.
Question: What the fuck is a rabbit ear shotgun?
This sounds dangerous, and I think the person who googled such a thing is probably way too into weaponry.
Answer: It removes the need to discuss jock itch sweat and detergents.
Question: What are bunched panties?
I understand googling “jock itch and detergent.” The little buddies can be sensitive sometimes, particularly in the summer months. The addition of “sweat” throws me. I fail to see the nexus to detergent. Sweat is a function of aeration, heat, and exertion. The detergent I use doesn’t make me sweat. I might get hives. I can see that. Sweat? Um, no.
I’m working on a theory here. If I ridicule enough people that visit my site, maybe I can achieve singularity. That point of infinite density the other side of which is completely unknown to science. Is it a worm hole to another part of me? Do I burst forward into something later catalogued as Big Bang Clyde, and through this dispersion of my matter form little galaxies that float around me like a herd of mosquitoes? Am I expanding or contracting? If you look at me with a really powerful telescope, will you see me when I was younger?
What will be my last thought as I lay dying? I suspect something about what I was going to do next like the laundry, or something I wanted to do like rinse my dinner plate. I think the profound thoughts will come in the hours before, provided I am not so cranked up on morphine that I am just watching the walls melt. Will I be alone? I think I will have a dog, so I better use big bowls in case I am not found for a few days.
My Great Aunt Nana was afraid of hospitals and she died in one. That always bothered me. My second cousin Craig lived a year after his fatal diagnosis and no one told me. That continues to piss me off.
My father told my brother and me that if his “dick sill worked” he “would have divorced your mother a long time ago.” I was saddened that he didn’t live until Viagra came on the market or that the whole poker tournament thing came after his death. He was an excellent card player. The last time I saw him alive was at a card game we both played in. I remember finally figuring out his game that night. I guess it was time.
I am getting ready to enter the next phase of my life. I think it will be my last. Will it last 30 years or more?
I just got T.Rex’s Dandy in the Underworld. Marc Bolan and the band were on tour when it came out on March 11, 1977. Six months later he was dead at age 30. I don’t understand why people die so young. He had an exceptionally good time while he was here, but don’t we all?
My skin gets dry in the winter. I started to use this soap I put on a scrungee thing. Seems to be helping. But I reach around to itch my lower back, and I feel hair there. Makes me wonder if I have hair on my ass. I am afraid to look. I am not going to itch there except through clothes to ensure that I gather no information. It is just something I don’t want to know.
Does everyone write poetry at some time in their life?
I lot of us have some perpetual fuck-up we know that makes our life look not so bad. Do those perpetual fuck-ups have someone they know even more fucked up? Is there no bottom to the pit?
I love old pennies. Wouldn’t it be cool to know precisely every story associated with a particular coin from its first use to the present? I pick up every penny I find. I save them. Remind me of my twin.
Time to transit …
Just got done watching (over three days) the re-issued Born to Boogie. Remarkable slice of my life up there on the screen. It really was as I saw it in my mind all these years. Am listening to 20th Century Superstar as I write.
My twin is blissfully clueless on things politic, yet discussions come up at work, voting time is within sight, so I am going to distill the political landscape from time to time.
For the uninitiated, I am conservative by nature and independent by registration. I am conservative because I find that competition in an open marketplace is far superior to government-run anything. What’s the best run agency/department/whatever in the federal government? The United States Postal Service. Why? Because they are mandated by their charter to operate at breakeven, and the ultimate judge is the price for the first ounce of a first class letter. Every other federal and state agency/department/whatever is run like an asylum: give them what they need so they shut up and don’t hurt anyone. The problem is that they need more and more all the time.
I think unions suck primarily because they are socialism – just look at their political leanings: bigger government always. More proof? Look at what they did to the public school system. They invented the concept of social promotion – pass the kid to the next grade because he’ll feel badly being left behind. The result is graduating functional illiterates. I heard a teacher complain that No Child Left Behind made her prove competency in every subject. What do you teach? “Special Ed.” You have the kids for every subject? “Yes.” So you want to teach them something for which you cannot establish competency? “But they are spe--.” Smile. Pig.
So onto current politics.
Forget the dems and pubs for a moment. Ralph Nader and Mike Bloomberg are sniffing around the edges as if they may start campaigning. We had Ross Perot a few cycles ago – John Anderson a few cycles before that. Third parties were common until FDR changed the name on the deed for the White House. Let at the historical record: the Socialist party always ran a candidate. After several cycles of FDR, what emerged with the dems and pubs. The Socialists somehow folded into the dems. Seeing other folks raise their hands to join is not new, nor will elect anyone from that ticket – but it could play kingmaker. Ross Perot took enough votes from George the Elder to give Bubba a plurality victory. Mike Bloomberg will do the same thing to Hillary – but I bet he is waiting to enter until it is clear Hillary will be the nominee. I think he detests her, and would love to do to her what Ross did to the Elder.
The dems race is just two people – Hillary and Obama. Hillary’s biggest problem is that her negatives are so high. If we had absolute knowledge, I bet she sets a record every time votes are cast for people that vote against her rather than for her opponent. She is paper thin, she has junk yard dogs surrounding her, and she does everything to fulfill the picture of a candidate rather than the substance. Just look at how quickly the press turned on her following NH. It is clear they detest yet fear her. The best part of watching her campaign is to see Bubba work his old parlor tricks. In the 1990s, they were magic; today they are the fuddy-duddy uncle whom everyone gives the stage to for a few minutes out of past respect.
Hillary's votes are institutional votes: unions, people that believe government should solve all problems, etc. She knows her base – she just said yesterday that government should play a bigger role in the economy. Good lord, lady, can you be more of an open socialist? No one does government-run health-care on this planet that is anywhere comparable to our competitive system. You want to tax away huge profits of oil companies? Then you need to accept that the oil companies were stop making comparable investments. In fact, they will leave American soil in total. They will build gas refineries in South America and Mexico, and ship refined oil up. You think 65% imported oil and about 20% imported gas is a lot? Just go messing with the capitalist society. You cite, monster thighs, that there are 43 million people without insurance in this country. You are either stupid or a liar. You know full well that number is the number of people without private insurance. You know full well that government programs pick up over 80% of those people. You also know that every county in this nation is required to have one hospital that serves every emergency without asking about ability to pay. In fact, they cannot even accept insurance cards until the emergency service has been rendered. Our system works, and mark my words, lady, you will destroy it if you let the government run it.
I have heard first-hand stories about this woman and her treatment of those around her. She is simply not a nice person. She is ruthless, condemning, angry, and walks through life as if she deserves everything. I just cannot consider a person like her to be worthy of a vote. If she were my neighbor, we would not be friends. If she were my coworker, we would not share time outside job requirements.
Obama is an interesting person. Too young to have any clue beyond a vision. Maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe Reagan was so good because he was too old to have anything but a vision.
You know what? I’m bored. Onward. Obama another day.
The Brits are going to extract cell stems out of the bone marrow of heart patients, and inject them into the scarred portions of the heart. They figure six months post-injection is a good measurement time. The only problem with the study is that they are going to give an equal number of people placebos. False hope. They already know what will happen with no stem cells added. Why not expand the study to give everyone a chance? Kinda sad.
This is humorous … Algore’s globe-be-toasty science is taking a cold bath lately, so he’s found himself a new position: gay marriage should be legalized across the nation. Quoting the boy, “Gay men and women ought to have the same rights as heterosexual men and women -- to make contracts, to have hospital visiting rights, to join together in marriage, and I don't understand why it is considered by some people to be a threat to heterosexual marriage.” It is considered, Atheist Al, to be against teachings in the Bible. That’s the issue, son. Let’s be clear, ok? And actually, for someone so versed as ignoring data as you, I guess it comes as no surprise that you have ignored the data out of European countries that have approved gay marriage: more children being raised in single-parent homes, more juvenile delinquency, and more drug use. Maybe instead of being a threat to heterosexual marriage, Allie, it can be viewed as a threat to our next generation. What an inconvenient truth, eh?
More another day.
Christmas approaches. Last year my snow-bubble-boy got a crack habit and a federal sentence. You can find it under the label, “short stories.” For Thanksgiving, I wrote a story for my twin, and gave it to her, unpublished. What shall we do for this holiday season? How about we start with some reflections? That seems pathetic enough …
I started the year in the classroom, having been newly de--- wait, I don’t talk about work, not directly at least. Music, that seems safe. Let’s talk about music.
I drifted back to my roots this year. Found Marc Bolan again. No surprise, perhaps. Subconsciously I must have known that the thirtieth anniversary of his fatal tree-eating scene was coming up in September. His music truly removes me from the present. It isn’t the overwhelming power of his lyrics, Did you ever see a woman coming out of New York City with a frog in her hand? Well, I did, don’t you know? And don’t it show?” (repeat five or six times, maybe seven, then fade out), or the (over)use of strings in the later albums. Rather it’s the time of life for me. I had to break out. I’d been accused and abused, and just needed to stop trying to conform. The contortions were no longer bending me, but breaking. Mascara and fingernail polish, long hair and drugs seemed to do the trick.
I could dance in private to Telegram Sam, Jeepster, and 20th Century Boy. I never ever did the stupid air guitar thing. How embarrassing. I was a lead singer sometimes, other times and mostly just in my own world: my space, my moves, my safety. My eyes were always closed. My door was always heavily blockaded (that’s much more secure that locked, at least psychologically). I was blissfully alone. No one could touch me no matter how much they tried. I was safe. Thirty-some years later, I can’t quite recapture that, but I can get an unfocused glimpse of it – and that is so very cool.
I found again Johnny Cash. I was ten or so when Folsom Prison Blues came out. I would walk into my father’s den with my head down, picturing myself hopelessly facing a 40-year sentence. I would move slowly and put the album on, and then sit on the floor cross-legged. I remember holding the album and staring into his eyes for long periods of time, trying to grasp his reality. I remember the sounds of the prisoners, seated or standing on either side and in front and back of me. I enjoyed their reaction as much as I did watching Johnny perform. I was quiet and alone in the room, but surrounded by the discarded. It was comforting in a deep way. I can’t trick myself like that anymore, but I remember the concept of being able to do it.
I discovered Blind Willie Johnson. What an amazing story. His father beat up his stepmom, so she threw lye into Willie’s 7-year old face and blinded him. He recorded just five sessions over four years, and only one photograph of him is known to exist. One of his songs, Dark was the Night, Cold was the Ground, is just an incredibly mournful song without words – just moans – that is about the Crucifixion. It was included in the Voyager I recordings sent outside our solar system. All of his songs are gospels delivered in the most amazing delta blues fashion with a rough sandpaper voice. His wife sings in the background sometimes. He spent his last years playing on the streets for coin. When his house burned, he continued to live in the rubble. He died of pneumonia a short while later at age 47 or so. His music has been performed by Bob Dylan, Eric Clapton, Led Zeppelin, the Dead … all sorts of folks. I just got The Complete Blind Willie Johnson, a two-CD set, yesterday. I am hearing a few songs for the first time. His music to me is the concept of the church I always wanted but never had.
I filled in a lot of The Beatles bootlegs this year. Found a few rich veins – so much, in fact, that I am nursing hard disk space until I expand soon. I focused a lot on George Harrison because of the large gaps. I am at the “completist” stage for John and George, close to there for The Beatles. Paul’s a long way off mainly because I am spotty on his music. Ringo will go from zip to complete in a day or two, so there’s no rush. Reflections? Not really. You can deconstruct January 1969 only so many ways. I find the musical evolution and studio talk interesting, I love hearing songs in infancy that weren’t published until their solo careers, John cracks me up as he makes fun of Paul’s songs (like singing Maxwell’s Silver Hammer), but I’m beyond reflections, I think. You could, however, close me safely in a room with an upper floor window open to catch a summer breeze, play Rocky Raccoon, and perhaps I could find my grandfather’s fields on those days when I knew no one was within seeing or screaming distance. The hay was always as high as my torso. I could see something in the distance running away only by watching the hay respond. The woods were so rich, so old.
I guess in a lot of ways music defined this year for me. That’s not a bad thing.
I was 14, it was 1973, and I got news of first impression for me: a friend had died. Her name was Kim Rolla. We knew each other from kindergarten. She lived in my neighborhood. We played together as kids. She was beautiful – blonde hair, straight. Smart and energetic. All of our friends were one big group. My birthday is February 26th. Kim’s is the 28th or 24th, something like that. We had lots of late February birthdays in that group.
We stayed in the same neighborhood grammar school, Longfellow, PS#28, Scranton, PA, through 6th grade. The junior high was North Scranton. In 7th and 8th, I would see Kim and sometimes (I think) we would spend time together. I used to go to her house during the early years, I just don’t when that stopped. I moved north about 23 miles - an eternity for a kid - during the summer following 8th grade.
The last time I saw her was on the corner of Green Ridge St. and Sanderson Ave. If was before school some warm day. We said hello, chatted for a moment, and off we went in different directions. I was walking, she was waiting for a ride.
My friend Artie called me and told me about the accident. Some girl that I knew as a wild seed with little common sense was racing down a dirt road after a car full of boys. Kim was in the passenger front sitting on the door and banging on the hood. The car flipped, and Kim was crushed underneath.
She had this upturn to her nose before the accident. The reconstruction they did for the funeral presentation didn’t bring back that feature. She was buried in a wedding dress.
I remember, and can still picture, that Sunday’s newspaper. I turned the pages until I found her obit. I stared at the words as I lay on the floor facing the mountains. My brother was on my left in a chair.
I wrote to her mom a few months later and said how sorry I was. She wrote back telling me how Kim had a crush on me when we were younger. I smiled; funny, the crush was unspoken but mutual.
I don’t go to Scranton anymore, but when I did, I always drove past her house on Sanderson Ave., close to where Marion St. comes in.
It was a few years later, 1976 maybe, that I went to her grave for the first time. It was winter. I touched her stone, stayed for a while, talked to her. I have never gone back, but it is funny how I think about her regularly.
Somehow or another, T.Rex’s Get It On because associated with her. Had to be because of when I was emotionally open at the news of her death. Every time I hear the song, Kim’s face comes to me.
The song was released as a single on July 24, 1971; released on the Electric Warrior album on September 17, 1971. In England the song was entitled "Get It On." In America, to avoid confusion with a song with the same name by another artist (Bill Chase, an American trumpet player and leader of a jazz-rock fusion band, Chase) it was re-titled "Bang a Gong, (Get it On)." Not credited on the liner notes is Rick Wakeman of "YES," who played piano on the song.
I found an extensive writing on the studio sessions and reproduce it (in part) below. Following that writing is four versions of the song (videos) and the lyrics. I introduce briefly each version.
[BEGINNING OF EXCERPTED SESSION NOTES]
In early '68 the duo [Marc Bolan and percussionist Steve Peregrine, performing as Tyrannosaurus Rex] was discovered by Tony Visconti, a young arranger/ musician/ engineer from Brooklyn who'd moved to England during 1967 and hooked up doing work with producer Denny Cordell. Visconti helped the group land a deal with EMI's Regal Zonophone label and then took them into the studio to produce the first Tyrannosaurus Rex LP-the fancifully titled My People Were Fair and Had Sky in Their Hair, But Now They're Content to Wear Stars on Their Brows. This was the beginning of an association that would eventually produce ten studio albums.
According to Visconti, after the band cut "Hot Love" in January, they traveled to America for a short tour, and "I followed them there with the excuse to visit my parents in New York. When we met up in New York, Marc suggested we start recording the next album; this was late April. We booked Media Sound Studios on 57th Street and recorded 'Jeepster' and possibly 'The Motivator' for the Electric Warrior album. Bob Margouleff was the engineer.
"Then the group flew to Los Angeles for a gig at the Whisky-a-Go-Go," Visconti continues. "We hooked up with Mark Volman and Howard Kaylan, and I remember us having a lovely jam up at Howard's house in Laurel Canyon. We made plans to book Wally Heider's studio to cut a few tracks, including 'Get It On.' … Marc was a prolific songwriter. He had a lined schoolbook chock-full of lyrics and chord symbols. He would open the book at the beginning of an album, and then when we had enough tracks recorded-say, about 17-he'd close the book. 'Get It On' was just one of about 50 or 60 he had in the book at the time. When I first heard it, only the day before we recorded it, it sounded like a hit to me. At Howard's house, we were singing it for hours and banging things for percussion. We were totally vibed to record it the next day. I can still remember driving in a van with the band to Wally Heider's through freeways and unbearable sunshine-we all had the complexions of maggots, coming directly from gray London.
"The session was like any other T. Rex session. We had an engineer called Rick [Pekkonen] who was a very nice guy. Flo & Eddie recommended him and the studio. The drums were quickly set up, and we got sounds immediately. I was impressed with the speed of American engineers at that time; it was a much slower process in England. The recording started sometime in the middle of the afternoon. We cut 'Get It On' and two other tracks in a few hours. The group already knew the songs, and we had rehearsed backing vocals with Mark and Howard the previous day at Howard's. By 10 p.m., we were cutting the backing vocals. Flo & Eddie were self-starters-they could harmonize the phone book! My job with them was mainly to have enough tracks for them and to make sure we covered all the harmonic possibilities before they left. But everything was always done fairly quickly on T. Rex albums, because Marc wanted to keep costs down, an old habit from the days when we hardly had a decent budget to record.
At the time, Heider's was equipped with a custom console, a 16-track recorder, and "they had all my favorite mics," Visconti recalls, "dynamics for the drums, but U87s for the toms; I used to insist on that. We recorded the drums over three tracks. In those days, it was such a dilemma-do we record the kick on a separate track and the rest of the kit in stereo? Or should we record the snare on a separate track and record the kick in with the stereo kit? Should we record the kick and snare on separate tracks? I tried everything for Electric Warrior. Since we needed tracks for backing vocals, strings, horns and percussion, the drum configuration was a very important decision. In the end, we went with keeping the kick separate with the snare and the rest of the kit in stereo on 'Get It On.'
"From memory I can say that the bass guitar was probably coming off just the amp stack to one track," Visconti continues. "Marc's live guitar was recorded to one track from a mic in front of his Marshall. This track was used and not replaced, so the live groove was preserved. He overdubbed a second guitar playing groove parts and the short solos. Mickey Finn's two conga mics were mixed to one track. There was an open vocal mic in the room during tracking. Marc sang on some takes but didn't on the master take. We used this vocal mic for the final mix as an ambience mic. We used about four or five tracks for Flo & Eddie, with Marc joining them. I always used a U87 on vocals and backing vocals."
After the Heider's sessions, the group returned to England, and work on the song (and album) continued at Trident Studios, with Roy Thomas Baker engineering. Blue Weaver played grand piano on the track, and King Crimson's Ian McDonald is responsible for the honking sax line. "He played all the saxes, one baritone and two altos," Visconti says. "I kept the baritone separate but bounced the altos to one track. I bounced the backup vocals to two tracks, making an interesting stereo image."
Though Visconti usually plotted out his always-creative string arrangements well in advance of orchestral sessions, the simple-but-effective string part for "Bang A Gong" was an afterthought: "We didn't intend to put strings on 'Get It On,' but when I was writing arrangements for 'Cosmic Dancer' and the other titles with strings, I felt maybe I should have something ready for 'Get It On,' just in case. At the session, I reminded Marc that our first two hits had strings on them and maybe we should continue the trend. Superstitiously, he agreed. All I had written out were the notes G-A-E, as whole notes over the chords of the chorus. We did those first and realized it was icing on the cake! There was no need to write any more for an already dense track. It took about ten minutes."
As for outboard effects on the record, Visconti notes that "Trident had the usual effects available in those days-basically a bank of compressors and two EMT plates. We did our tight slapbacks and phasing with three tape recorders at the mixing stage, with someone in the band or the tape assistant slowly sweeping the VCO. There will never be a digital box that phases and flanges as well as the original method, because that method would technically process before and after the signal, crossing the 'node,' whereas a modern phase program only processes after the signal. There are many instruments treated this way on Electric Warrior. Ambience was our only other 'effect.' I'd often record guitars and hand claps from a microphone about 10 feet from the source, aimed at the studio window, in cardioid mode. I was never a fan of hitting analog tape very hard-to me it always sounded better live; the playback was always a disappointment."
[END OF EXCERPTED SESSION NOTES]
This first video has a really bad mix, and seems to be an early version of the song.
This is the released version of the song, with really bad lip syncing in the video. Remember, MTV was not even a concept. To make music videos was rare.
I love this live version from 1973. Check out the black girls – they own those mics. Screaming! One girl has hair bigger than a medicine ball. Marc goes wild with early ‘70s stage presence. It’s funny that the performance is for a studio audience – Marc clearly seems to be playing to a stadium.
This video is from 1972. This performance is to a larger crowd. The video itself comes from the 2007 Rexmania festival. Video bad, audio good.
Well you're dirty and sweet
Clad in black, don't look back, and I love you
You're dirty and sweet oh yeah
Well you're slim and you're weak
You got the teeth of the hydra upon you
You're dirty sweet and you're my girl
Get it on, bang a gong, get it on
Get it on, bang a gong, get it on
Well you're built like a car
You got a hubcap diamond star halo
You're built like a car oh yeah
Well you're an untamed youth
That's the truth
With your cloak full of eagles
You're dirty sweet and you're my girl
Get it on, bang a gong, get it on
Get it on, bang a gong, get it on
Well you're windy and wild
You got the blues
In your shoes and your stockings
You're windy and wild oh yeah
You're built like a car
You got a hubcap diamond star halo
You're dirty sweet and you're my girl
Get it on, bang a gong, get it on
Get it on, bang a gong, get it on
Well you're dirty and sweet
Clad in black, don't look back, and I love you
You're dirty and sweet oh yeah
Well you dance when you walk
So let's dance, take a chance, understand me
You're dirty sweet and you're my girl
Get it on, bang a gong, get it on
Get it on, bang a gong, get it on
Get it on, bang a gong, get it on
Get it on
Get it on, bang a gong, get it on
Get it on, bang a gong, get it on
Get it on, bang a gong, get it on
Get it on, bang a gong, right on
Take me
Meanwhile I'm still thinkin'
O God
High in your fields above earth
Come and be real for us
You with your mind
Oh yes you are
Beautifully fine
O Girl
Electric witch you are
Limp in society's ditch you are
Visually fine
Oh yes you are
But mentally dying
O boy
Just like a boat you are
Sunk but somehow you float you do
Mentally weak
Oh yes you are
But so much speak
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